


Disambiguation

by Pixxit



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-25
Updated: 2007-09-25
Packaged: 2019-09-15 02:19:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16924683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixxit/pseuds/Pixxit
Summary: Kirihara is tired of standing still.  Niou is tired of going in circles.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Niou was dragging his feet. Ridiculous, really, when he stopped to think about it since he was on his way _out_ of the school and not on his way _in_ , but he was, in fact, taking his sweet time. Yagyuu walked on ahead, back ramrod straight, seemingly uninterested in partaking of a leisurely, afternoon stroll. Niou found that he didn't mind it so much – he was rather enjoying the view.

"Yagyuu," he called. "Take that number off your back."

Yagyuu paused, turning to glance over his shoulder at Niou, glasses glinting in the afternoon sunlight. "Hm? What was that?"

"I said," Niou repeated, enunciating carefully. "Take. That. Number. Off. Your. Back."

In the time that it had taken to repeat himself, Niou had just about caught up. Craning his neck, Yagyuu attempted to get a glimpse of his back. He didn't get it; Niou wasn't surprised.

"We're not running a marathon," he said, shoving at Yagyuu's arm when he caught up and then passed him.

Yagyuu frowned, hefting his backpack and falling into step once more. "I wasn't running. You're just slow."

"What's your hurry, anyway?" Niou asked, crowding Yagyuu on the stairs. "We don't have practice and it's not like there's anything going on at _your_ place."

Yagyuu sniffed and adjusted his glasses. "I have a test tomorrow, Niou-kun. I have to study."

"Yeah? Need any help?" Niou asked hopefully, tone indicative of precisely what manner of help he'd be the most willing to offer.

"Thank you, no," Yagyuu declined politely. "I'd like to actually get some studying done."

Exhaling dramatically, Niou slumped his shoulders in defeat. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I know when I'm not wanted."

Yagyuu ignored him.

They walked in relative silence, side-by-side, until the tennis clubhouse came into view. There was no afternoon practice scheduled, but Niou suspected that a few of the Rikkai regulars would be there, regardless.

A few of the upper-classmen were hanging around, socializing, though they didn't acknowledge Niou and Yagyuu when they passed. A few were dressed for practice and were even now warming up just outside the high-walled fences. Already on one court, Yukimura rallied with one of the third-years and was – as far as Niou could tell – completely dominating the match.

Standing off to one side, just watching, was Sanada. Where he might have busied himself with stretches or swings if he'd been watching anyone else play, he merely stood – silent and forbidding – when he watched Yukimura. Arms crossed, fingers tight around his biceps, Sanada cut an imposing figure. He could admit it, mainly, because he remembered a skinny, unsure Sanada who would rather bite his lips until they bled before he'd let anyone see him cry. He remembered a Sanada who got 'kick me' signs taped to his back at least once a week and he remembered a Sanada who loved playing sports – any sport – so much that he took whatever shit the upperclassmen felt like dishing out. But then, Niou remembered the day that Sanada had finally had enough. Already bulking up from his inhuman training regiments, kendo, and the martial arts his brother had begun teaching him, Sanada wasn't the skinny kid he'd been at the beginning of the year and when he’d thrown that punch, there had been something behind it. When all had been said and done, Niou had felt that Sanada had managed to get his point across rather well.

Of course, he'd been suspended for a week and his parents had gone apeshit about it, but the other kids still talked about that fight, sometimes. It had been the one time that Niou could remember _not_ thinking that Sanada was a total tool.

But then Sanada had found tennis – and Yukimura.

"And that, as they say, was that," Niou said, blinking when Yagyuu shot him an odd glance.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Brushing his hair aside, away from his forehead, Yagyuu considered Niou over the rims of his glasses. "Because you're talking to yourself. Stop it."

"Oh," Niou murmured, sniffing and smoothing his rattail self-consciously. "Didn't mean to."

But then he glanced at Yukimura again and elbowed Yagyuu absently. "Hey, check it out," he said, motioning to the court.

Yukimura lifted his chin in graceful acknowledgement of his senpai's humiliation and turned toward the bench, where Sanada waited. He took the towel that Sanada offered, wiping his face and his neck and laughing at Sanada's expression when he handed the sweaty towel back to him.

"Damn," Niou said. " _That's_ love."

"What?" Yagyuu replied, sounding testy. "What are you talking about?"

" _Them_ ," Niou stressed. "Open your fucking eyes."

"Yukimura-kun and Sanada-kun?" Yagyuu asked.

"Yeah. Watch a second. Soon as Yukimura turns his back, Sanada'll be sniffing that towel like the freak he is."

Yagyuu grunted, clearly uninterested. "Hm. Niou-kun?"

Niou smirked, watching Sanada shoulder his bag and fall into step beside Yukimura, who was gesticulating exaggeratedly – probably going on about his plans to take over the universe with his tennis – before offering his attention to Yagyuu again.

"Yeah?"

Niou stopped walking, bumping into Yagyuu's back, and followed his partner's line of vision. Kirihara had managed to catch his eye. Or perhaps it was Yanagi.

He frowned.

"Didn't you tell me that Kirihara-kun and Yanagi-kun were…?" He trailed off, clearly uncomfortable articulating precisely what Yanagi-kun and Kirihara-kun _were_.

"Dating? Gettin' it on? Riding the hobbyhorse?" Niou supplied helpfully.

"Yes. You _did_ tell me that, didn't you?"

"Yeah, it was me," Niou said, nearly offended that Yagyuu could think anyone else would be privy to such a secret. "Why?"

Head tilted, Yagyuu regarded their teammates silently for a moment. "They don't appear to be anything special to one another," he finally said. "Or, at least, Yanagi-kun seems to harbor no particular attraction to Kirihara-kun."

Niou hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head, also. He watched the two boys – one so cool and reserved and the other so eager and awkward – and tried to see them as Yagyuu must see them. Having never been the recipient of Kirihara's anxious, bashful ramblings, Yagyuu couldn't know what was between them and what was not. Putting the situation into perspective, however, made it easy for Niou to see what Yagyuu meant.

Kirihara was leaning in close. Yanagi was not.

"Meh," he said. "You know how Yanagi is. Nothing fazes him."

"If Kirihara was his lover, _truly_ , then he'd have something to faze him."

Though his words were thoughtful and spoken innocently enough, something in the way Yagyuu's lips formed the word 'lover', sent an electric current directly to Niou's groin. He swallowed. _Hard_.

"I see what you mean."

Side by side, they stood, watching Kirihara speaking animatedly while Yanagi looked on, smiling placidly. Soon enough, however, Sanada appeared in the clubhouse entrance and Yanagi glanced quickly in his direction.

He murmured a goodbye to Kirihara – without touching him even once – and left his kouhai behind to join Sanada and Yukimura.

Shoulders slumping, Kirihara kicked at the gravel under his trainers and looked up once to watch the object of his affections stroll off with his best friends. The three of them – shoulder to shoulder – cleared the crowd without saying a word and Kirihara gazed after them, lips parted and awestruck, despite his own popularity and the reputation he'd earned himself.

It did seem odd that Yanagi would still seek out Sanada and Yukimura when he had Kirihara, so eager to hold his attention and be to Yanagi what his closest friends could not.

Niou felt sorry for the little bugger.

"Kirihara-kun," Yagyuu called out, waving him over when the boy looked up.

Niou grinned, watching Kirihara stride purposely toward them. The kid was growing up pretty good – broader and taller and a little steadier in his own shoes then he'd been two years ago.

"Senpai," he greeted them, ruffling up his wayward curls and hefting his tennis bag higher on his shoulder. "You guys gonna smack the ball around some?"

"Not today," Yagyuu said. "Yourself?"

Kirihara shrugged, looking as though he had plenty to say, but knowing better than to blurt out his romantic woes in a crowd of other guys. "Just going home, I guess." He stared in the direction that Yanagi had disappeared and shrugged again. "Not like I got anything better to do."

Yagyuu nodded perfunctorily. "Would you like to come over to my house, then?"

Ignoring Niou's expression of supreme shock, he went on. "My family is traveling this weekend and Niou-kun and I don't have anything planned."

Niou smiled, then. He liked that 'Niou-kun and I' business. "Yeah, Akaya," he added. "You can lay around with us and play Street Fighter and fetch us snacks."

Kirihara laughed and punched Niou's arm playfully. "Screw _you_ , Niou-senpai. If I want to be somebody's servant, I'll go home and let my harpy sister order me around."

"What are Yanagi-kun's plans for the evening?" Yagyuu asked, frowning thoughtfully.

Averting his eyes, Kirihara blushed. He shot Niou a guarded look and tucked his hands into his pockets. "Dunno. Somethin' with Buchou and Sanada-senpai, I guess."

"Hey, he's not Buchou anymore," Niou objected. "You don't have to call him that."

Kirihara blinked. "He says he doesn't mind if I call him Buchou. He always smiles when I do."

Yagyuu snorted, adjusted his glasses. "Of course he does." Clearing his throat, he nodded to Kirihara. "So, Kirihara-kun. Want to come with us?"

Niou grinned, hooking an arm around Yagyuu's neck and managing to look even more disreputable than he did already. "Better than hanging out by yourself, right?"

Glancing once at the gate that Yanagi, Sanada and Yukimura had disappeared through only moments before, Kirihara nodded. "Sure, senpai. Sounds cool."

\+ + +

It was quiet in the kitchen. Kirihara sat at the table, long arms stretched out before him, resting his head in the crook of his elbow while Yagyuu perused the cabinets. He waited, wondering if Kirihara would speak first, and when it seemed that he would not, Yagyuu contemplated the best way to open a conversation.

But then Kirihara spoke. "Niou-senpai told you, didn't he?" His words were muffled against his arm and he sounded so forlorn that Yagyuu briefly considered lying. He discarded that idea, however, almost as quickly as it had come upon him.

"Yes."

Sighing, Kirihara turned his head, face pressed to the table. "Man, he's got a big mouth."

Withdrawing a plastic bowl of noodles, Yagyuu nodded once. "He does."

"Who else did he tell? God, he better not have told Marui-senpai or I'll kick his ass."

Yagyuu smiled, concealing his amusement behind the cabinet door. "I wouldn't worry about that, Kirihara-kun. Niou tells me things that he wouldn't tell anyone else."

At that, Kirihara glanced up. "For real? Why?"

Yagyuu blinked. _Why_? "Er…I suppose because he feels comfortable talking to me."

Kirihara sat up, as though he were on to something good. "Yeah, but do you tell him stuff, too?"

Considering Kirihara's question honestly, Yagyuu was silent for a moment. He supposed that Niou was better at getting him to open up than anyone else he knew and while they didn't have heart-to-heart conversations, Yagyuu knew he could speak honestly to Niou and not have to worry about having his confidence betrayed. "Yes. Sometimes."

"Why?"

Yagyuu closed the cabinet door and regarded Kirihara, head tilted. "Why?"

Nodding, Kirihara turned in his chair, arm draped over the top rung. "Yeah, I mean, no offense, Yagyuu-senpai, but you don’t usually have much to say."

"That's true," he allowed, setting the bowl on the counter and meeting Kirihara's gaze. The boy was refreshingly straightforward. It's what Yagyuu liked about him. "I trust Niou," he said. "I know he has my back and respects our partnership."

Kirihara's eyes shone, so dark that they appeared black, and he licked his lips. "Can I ask you another question, Yagyuu-senpai?"

Apprehensive, Yagyuu turned to open the fridge, searching for something sweet to drink. "Sure."

"Are you guys…you know… _just_ friends?"

Growing still, Yagyuu stood at the refrigerator for a few seconds before selecting a few sodas. Placing them on the counter, he parted his lips to speak – though he was entirely unsure as to how he intended to word his answer – when Niou came sliding across the kitchen floor in his socks. He laughed when he bumped into the counter, leaning in close to scoop up a can of soda and, when he grinned up at Yagyuu, the room seemed a bit warmer to Kirihara.

Neither boy spoke and when Niou straightened slowly, popping open his soda, Yagyuu ducked his head to hide the rush of color to his face.

Kirihara watched, fascinated. Were they or weren't they?

"So, kid," Niou said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Why'd Yanagi dump you to go hang out with Yukimura and the missus?"

Kirihara shrugged. "He didn't ask me what I thought about it – what was I supposed to say?"

"Pfft," Niou snorted, hopping up on the counter and ignoring the withering glance Yagyuu shot him. "You don't wait around for him to ask what you think, dummy. You just tell him you want his attention and take him where you want him to be."

Wide-eyed, Kirihara leaned in eagerly. _This_ was good advice. "I do?"

"Sure you do," Niou said. "I mean, you guys are going out, right?"

"I guess so," Kirihara hedged, looking uncomfortable. "I mean, well, you know…"

"You backed him against a wall and shoved your tongue in his mouth," Niou reminded him. "I think it's safe to assume that he knows you got the hots for him."

Blushing scarlet, Kirihara scowled at Niou. "Jeez, Niou-senpai. Why you gotta say stuff like that?"

Moving around the edge of the counter, Yagyuu nudged Niou and stepped out of reach before Niou could return the favor. Taking a seat beside Kirihara, Yagyuu opened his own soda and took a slow sip. "Did Yanagi return your… _affections_ , Kirihara-kun?"

Chewing his bottom lip, Kirihara scratched his head absently. "I think so."

"You think so?"

Niou watched, content to merely sit and listen; he couldn't quite believe that Yagyuu was able to discuss this so easily.

"Well, he kissed me back," Kirihara said, blushing a little.

"And?" Yagyuu prompted and, despite his obvious embarrassment, Kirihara went on.

"And then we wound up on his floor and I was on top and we were kissing and he put his hands on my butt and I rubbed against, y'know, _him_ and then…"

Yagyuu leaned in, soda forgotten. "Then?"

Kirihara sighed and slumped in his chair again. "And then I bit his ear and told him I liked him a whole lot and that I wanted to _do it_ because, y'know, it just _ached_ so bad and he felt really… _good_."

Groaning in embarrassment – or perhaps latent humiliation – Kirihara lay his head on the table again and hid his face with his arms.

Arching a brow at Niou in question, Yagyuu motioned toward Kirihara. Niou shrugged.

"And then Yanagi made some excuse about needing to study and he all but pushed Akaya out into the street." He paused, meaningfully, glaring at Yagyuu. "You know. _That_ old line."

Conveniently ignoring that last bit, Yagyuu reached over to pat Kirihara's shoulder awkwardly. "And he hasn't talked much to you since?" he asked, sympathetic but understanding where Yanagi was coming from. It was an awkward situation to say the least and one that Yagyuu was glad he didn't have to deal with. Even if Kirihara _was_ kind of cute.

"No," Kirihara said, propping his chin on his forearms and staring out into the living room. "He let me jerk him off in the bathroom two days after that and last weekend we went to the movies and he let me hold his hand for a few minutes. Oh, and he paid, too."

Yagyuu colored faintly. Niou bit his lip to stifle his amusement.

"Hm," was all that Yagyuu could manage. "So maybe he _does_ like you."

"If he liked him so much," Niou interrupted, "he wouldn't keep blowing him off to hang out with Yukimura and Sanada. What in the hell could they possibly have to talk about, anyway?"

Yagyuu shrugged. He didn't want to think about it, personally. "Perhaps, Kirihara-kun, you need to be a little more direct in your desires."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't allow him to treat you like his kouhai. If he regards you as highly as you regard him, there should be equality between you."

Niou opened his mouth to speak and Yagyuu continued quickly. "Equality means respect and respect means honesty."

"Wow, Yagyuu-senpai. You know a lot about this relationship crap."

Nodding once, Yagyuu lifted his soda to his lips again. Niou resisted the urge to make gagging noises. He knew more about relationships and love than Yagyuu and he'd never been laid in his life.

"So what should I do?" Kirihara asked, spirits high again.

"Invite him here tonight. And don't take no for an answer." Expression calculating, lips curved in a wicked smile, Yagyuu pushed his glasses up with the tip of his middle finger. "Sometimes it's better to lead by example, Kirihara-kun. Do you understand?"

Eyes narrowed, expression a passing imitation of Yagyuu's, Kirihara nodded quickly, already reaching into his pocket for his phone. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I do."

Niou rolled his eyes and slid off the counter. He hoped that Yagyuu's father had restocked the liquor cabinet.

 

\+ + +

 

Upstairs in Yagyuu's bathroom, Niou stripped off his uniform and changed into baggy, cotton pants. Easing the door open just a bit, he peeked out at Yagyuu, who was unbuttoning his jacket carefully instead of just yanking the whole thing over his head the way Niou always did.

"What was all that about earlier?"

Glancing over his shoulder, Yagyuu regarded Niou silently for a moment before turning his attention back to his buttons. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Niou opened the door, then, and leaned in the doorway. His pants were untied and hung low on his hips, revealing his red and white striped shorts, and he held a faded pink tee in one hand.

"Sure you do, mister-teen-romance-advice-columnist. How come you never give me any helpful advice like that?"

"Because Niou-kun," Yagyuu began patiently, "The only relationship trouble you have seems to be centered around your propensity for inappropriate erections."

"Yeah, that's what you think," Niou muttered.

Easing the jacket off his shoulders, Yagyuu looked at Niou again. "Did you say something?"

"No, nothin'," Niou said, stepping back into the bathroom and closing the door hard. " _Asshole_."

"I heard that," Yagyuu said. "Hurry up, Yanagi-kun is here."

Niou waited until he heard the bedroom door close behind Yagyuu before slinking out of the bathroom. He was dressed, though he looked like a bum, and he'd combed his hair and brushed his teeth – just in case.

Padding down the stairs, he slowed when he drew closer to the foyer. He could hear Kirihara, speaking quietly to Yanagi and he grew very still, just listening.

"I know you probably had other plans, but…" he faltered and Niou could just about imagine him looking away, scuffling his feet and fidgeting, but then his voice dropped a notch and he said, urgently, "I wanted to see you tonight."

"It's fine, Akaya," Yanagi returned, quiet as Kirihara had been. "Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"I just thought…I dunno what I thought."

It got quiet and then there was the sound of hushed breath and lips clinging and Niou barely dared to breathe, so great was his desire to hide and continue listening to his friends' private moment.

"It's okay, Akaya," Yanagi whispered. "Why wouldn't I want to be with you?" And then, in a much drier tone, "Though I have to wonder how in the world you wound up sleeping over at Yagyuu's house."

Kirihara laughed, whispered something else that Niou couldn't quite catch and then Yagyuu was there. "We can stay in the kitchen if you like," he offered politely. "But the games are upstairs in my room."

"Upstairs is fine with me," Yanagi said. "Akaya?"

"Yeah, yeah," Kirihara agreed eagerly, tender moment all but forgotten in his desire to cream somebody at Street Fighter. "Let's play."

Hopping off of the last step, Niou leaned against the banister, head tilted. "Miss me?" he asked.

"Unbearably so," Yagyuu deadpanned, holding out a tray of snacks to Niou. "Here, take these."

Nodding politely, Yanagi helped Niou with two of the drinks. "Hello, Niou-kun."

Niou lifted his chin in greeting and smiled at Kirihara. The kid was beaming. "You staying over, too, Yanagi?"

Yanagi appeared surprised, glancing once at Kirihara, who was already on his way upstairs, hot on Yagyuu's heels. Niou knew that he just wanted dibs on Player One.

"Hm. Akaya didn't say…"

Jerking his head toward the stairs, Niou took the first two in one step. "It's no biggie. The parentals are out of town. Nobody here but the fellas."

He paused, mid-way, and glanced over his shoulder at Yanagi. "I think the kid wants you to stay."

Eyes open, Yanagi met Niou's gaze calmly. "Does he?"

"Yeah. You got someplace better to be?"

"No."

Niou smiled, then. "Cool. It's been awhile since we've done the sleepover thing."

Making some small sound of amusement, Yanagi followed in Niou's path. "Shame I left my pink nightie at home."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Niou reassured him. "You guys can stay in Yagyuu's kid sister's room. There'll be plenty of pink in there for ya."

Yanagi didn't respond. Niou smirked.

Inside Yagyuu's room, Kirihara was already sprawled in the floor, open bag of crisps between his legs. He'd already claimed the first controller and was busy getting salt and grease all over the buttons. Surprisingly enough, Yagyuu didn't say a word and was, instead, seated at his desk with a bowl of noodles.

Kirihara glanced up, smiling happily. "Senpai, you want to play?"

"No thank you, Akaya," Yanagi said, at precisely the same time that Niou said, "Sure thing, chibi."

Standing just inside the doorway, close enough to touch if they'd so desired, Niou and Yanagi glanced at one another.

"Ehehe, I guess I'll just be the first to humiliate the kid, here."

Flopping down beside Kirihara on the floor, Niou snagged a cold soda. He wondered what Yagyuu had done with the one he'd left, unfinished, downstairs. Yanagi glanced around for a moment, correctly assuming that sitting on Yagyuu's bed was not a possibility, and took his place on Kirihara's other side. This, Niou realized, was precisely what Kirihara had wanted and he wasted no time in settling in comfortably.

Just as Yagyuu was taking his first bite, Niou looked back at him. "Where's the sake?"

Chopsticks paused half-way to his mouth, Yagyuu frowned. "What sake?"

"C'mon, Yagyuu. We can't have a party without the sake!"

Glancing meaningfully at Yanagi and Kirihara, Niou tilted his head, smiling pleasantly. "Right?"

Setting down his bowl, Yagyuu sighed heavily and rose to his feet again. "Would anyone like something to drink?"

Niou sat up tall and straight. "I would." Ignoring Yagyuu's forbidding scowl, he nudged Kirihara. "You want to tip the bottle some?"

Kirihara laughed. He'd had sake plenty before and while there was no way he was going to get wasted and risk making a complete ass of himself, it couldn't hurt to loosen up a little. "Uh, yeah, sure. Senpai?"

Yanagi nodded. "Fine."

Glancing at Niou once more, Yagyuu told himself that his partner's crooked, evil little grin had absolutely no effect on his body temperature and he left the room without a word.

"I call Ken," Niou said, settling back against Yagyuu's bed. Kirihara chose Ryu and snickered gleefully. Ken was a pansy.

 

\+ + +

 

Two hours and two bottles of sake later, Street Fighter was a thing of the past and Niou – wonder of wonders – had managed to ply Yanagi Renji with enough booze to loosen his tongue a little. Kirihara had abandoned all pretence of propriety and was lounging between Yanagi's legs with his back pressed to Yanagi's chest and his head on Yanagi's shoulder. Niou felt certain that Yagyuu would have had several somethings to say about _that_ little development, but he'd seemed to be having a little trouble following the conversation after one too many drinks and had, eventually, passed out on the bed.

"Okay, so let me get this straight," Niou said, rolling over onto his belly and looking up at Yanagi and Kirihara. "Sanada and Yukimura aren't…y'know…?"

"Seiichi has one interest, Niou-kun, and you know what that interest is," Yanagi said, not slurring his words as Niou had begun to do.

"But everybody knows that Sanada is sickeningly obsessed with him," Niou said.

Yanagi chuckled and nosed against the back of Kirihara's neck. "Everyone but Seiichi."

Kirihara remained silent, instinctively knowing that whatever was between Yukimura and Sanada was nobody’s business. Yukimura was fiercely private and Sanada was no less so – their fledgling relationship, such as it was, was a secret that he and Yanagi would keep.

"Sucks to be Sanada, then,” Niou was saying. “Why doesn't he just confess?"

Stroking Kirihara's upper arm with the backs of his fingers, Yanagi regarded Niou coolly. "Why don't _you_?"

Niou blinked. "I don't want to do it with Yukimura!"

"I was referring to Yagyuu-kun, though I think you're lying."

Already flush with color due to the amount of alcohol he'd consumed, Niou was too loose to worry about embarrassment. "I don't need to confess to Yagyuu – I'm wearing his underwear – and yeah, I guess that was a lie."

"You think Buchou is hot, Niou?" Kirihara asked, snickering.

"I guess so," Niou grudgingly admitted, rolling over to his back to stare at the stick-on stars he'd talked Yagyuu into pasting onto his ceiling. They were pretty cool. Yagyuu said they were tacky, but he hadn't taken them down. "But I wouldn't go for it, or anything. Yukimura's scary."

At Yanagi's smug, half-smile, Niou looked his way. "What about you, hot-shot? You're pretty tight with Yukimura. Are you saying you've never checked him out?"

"I'm not saying that at all," Yanagi answered. "But Seiichi is my best friend; there's never been anything else between us."

They were silent for a moment until Kirihara leaned forward a little. "Hey. Niou-senpai. Do you and Yagyuu-senpai do it?"

Taken aback, Niou smoothed his hair back, not bothering to fix it when it fell over his eyes again. He and Yagyuu liked pretending – they were very, very good at it – and for the sake of the illusion and for the closeness that they had to share in order to be convincing – they were masters of innuendo. Niou never bothered to correct any mistaken conclusions their teammates drew and Yagyuu, surprisingly enough, never did, either. Niou had assumed that he liked the mystery and ambiguity that their arrangement afforded. Additionally, Yagyuu had his own sadistic tendencies and simply liked fucking with people when the opportunity arose. Whatever his reasoning, Niou was happy for it. The games they played allowed for a closeness between them that might not have existed, otherwise. Truthfully, Niou was only biding his time until he felt Yagyuu was receptive enough to hear what he _really_ wanted to say.

Glancing toward the bed, where Yagyuu lay, half on his belly with his arm hanging over the side of the mattress, Niou sighed heavily. He considered lying – they were all drunk and Yanagi was all but molesting Kirihara – but in the end, he just shook his head.

"Nope. Never even kissed him."

"Why not?" Kirihara asked– his curiosity was genuine where Yanagi's might have been something less than innocent. "I thought you guys were hooked up – you're always together and you're all touchy and weird."

"I don't know if…" he trailed off, glancing at Yagyuu again. Satisfied that he was actually asleep and not just faking it to eavesdrop, Niou went on. "I think Yagyuu might like girls."

"Do you like girls, Niou-kun?" Yanagi asked.

Kirihara grew very quiet. _He_ liked girls. He liked big boobs and curvy hips and long, silky hair. All the porn he'd been watching lately had plenty of girls in them and he always got hard looking at them. But he maintained his silence because he felt certain that would have been the wrong sort of information to volunteer. Particularly when Yanagi's fingertips along his spine gave him the sort of shivers that no girl _ever_ had.

Niou shrugged. "I like 'em okay." And then, softer, he said, "I just don't want to go to bed with any of them."

Before Yanagi could ask him another question, he rolled to his side to prop his head up on one hand. "What about you, Yanagi-kun? Do you like girls?"

Kirihara tensed visibly, shifted as though to move away from Yanagi, but Yanagi halted him with one touch to his shoulder.

"I enjoy their company, yes. I enjoy speaking to them and looking at them. But I have no physical interest in females, Niou-kun. I don't think I ever have."

Softly, Kirihara spoke up. "When did you know, senpai?"

Niou watched them carefully – Yanagi's body language was quite different with regards to Kirihara tonight, versus the few times he'd seen them together before. Looking at him now, it was easy enough for Niou to see that Yanagi desired Kirihara very much – as much as Kirihara desired _him_. He knew that he should probably think about sending them off someplace together so he could lock the door and jerk off while he watched Yagyuu sleep.

Sick, that's what he was. Sick and goddamned pathetic.

"Hm. Final year in elementary school, I believe."

At Kirihara's wide-eyed surprise, he smiled a little. "But I didn't act on it until about the second year of middle school."

Niou sat up a little. "Middle school? C'mon, let's hear it."

Shrugging, Yanagi rubbed Kirihara's shoulders absently, making room for him when he settled back against him again. "It's no big deal, really. Just a one off in the showers one morning and that's all. But it was enough for me to know."

Kirihara yawned, half-turning to rub his face against Yanagi's shoulder and Yanagi met Niou's eyes over Kirihara's shoulder. Dark, secretive, full of all the emotion that Niou has experienced but worked so hard to conceal, and he rolled to all fours.

"'m ready to hit it," he slurred. "'kaya, you know where the brat's room is, right?"

"Uh," Kirihara hedged. "I'll find it. You sure it's okay to crash there?"

Waving them off, Niou crawled over to the duffel bag he'd left by the far wall. "Yep. Yagyuu'll clean up tomorrow, don't sweat it."

Kirihara stood first, holding out a hand for Yanagi and tugging him to his feet. "Okay, Niou-senpai. If you're sure."

Glancing up, Niou noticed that Yanagi had not released Kirihara's hand. He wondered if it would be creepy of him to listen through the wall when they went to bed. "Hey, you guys want the rest of this sake?"

Kirihara shook his head, fingers twining with Yanagi's when he opened Yagyuu's bedroom door. "No thanks, Niou-senpai. You can have it."

And then he was gone and Yanagi was just behind him and the door closed quietly behind them.

Niou leaned against the wall, uncorked the bottle and stared hard at Yagyuu, stretched so languid and oblivious on the mattress across the room. Pressing the bottle against his lips, he turned it up, closed his eyes and hoped things worked out for Kirihara.

And for himself, too. Somehow.

\+ + +

 


	2. Chapter 2

  
It was only dusk when Kirihara led Yanagi into the room they'd been offered for the night and Yanagi tightened his grip on his kouhai's fingers. They were warm and sweaty and his grip was still so tenuous despite Yanagi's careful affection earlier.

In the center of the room, Kirihara paused, looking around in the faint light the early evening afforded them, and looking nearly horrified.

"Senpai," he whispered. "Can you see okay?"

"Fine," Yanagi reassured him. "Would you like me to find the light?"

"No," Kirihara was quick to respond. "No, let's just leave it off."

The room was pink and frilly and done up in Chococat and Hello Kitty. Kirihara was clearly appalled. Yanagi was merely amused. Kirihara's reaction to their surroundings was infinitely more interesting than the room, itself, and Yanagi did not mention that the color of the walls and the girly, playful posters on the wall didn't matter to him. He would wait until Kirihara relaxed a bit and, by then, he felt certain that the décor would be the very last thing on his mind.

Regarding Kirihara patiently, Yanagi released his fingers to settle his hands on Kirihara's hips, and he tipped his chin up when Kirihara might have looked away.

"What's this about, Akaya?" he asked, voice soft. When Kirihara shook his head, Yanagi stroked the line of his jaw. "Hm? Something's on your mind."

"I…," Kirihara began, faltering and resting his hands on Yanagi's shoulders. "I just want…"

Brushing Kirihara's mouth with the pad of his thumb, Yanagi ducked his head to nose against his soft, dark curls. He wondered if Kirihara would one day surpass him in height and perhaps even in other, more important ways. Ways that would leave a hollow place in Yanagi's heart and a void in his life that he'd never experienced before – not even when he'd moved away and dissolved his friendship with Inui. He wondered if it were possible to be sure of a sixteen-year-old boy's heart. Logic told him that it was not.

"You know that I care for you, Akaya," was all that he could say. "Whatever you say, that won't change."

Kirihara glanced up – eyes dark and intent and determined – and Yanagi brushed his hair away from his forehead. He needn't have bothered, as it swung right back into place. "Say what you need to say."

Kirihara wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, swallowed hard and moved closer to Yanagi. "We're alone, senpai. Just you and me – all night. I want to show you-," he hesitated, closing his eyes in fleeting contentment when Yanagi stroked his hair. "I want to show you how serious I am."

"You don't have to prove anything, Akaya."

Shaking his head, wanting to silence Yanagi – wanting to do away with words and obligation and whatever other obstacles remained between them – Kirihara framed Yanagi's face with both hands and said, urgently, "I don't have to. I _want_ to. I want to, senpai. _With you_."

Yanagi was silent when Kirihara tipped his head to one side, his eyes so dark and full of promise and hope. His adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed and Yanagi studied the shape of his mouth and sharp slant of his cheekbones. Somewhere along the way, Kirihara had become something much more to him than an insatiable little devil on the tennis courts. As proud of him as Yanagi had increasingly become, it was to this newer Akaya – this tall, rangy, still-awkward and surprisingly sweet Akaya – that he found himself relating to.

But this was all so new and Kirihara had a habit of leaping first and looking, after. He gave all of himself, always, with his goal foremost in his mind; Yanagi didn't want to be a goal.

Kirihara's lips – so light and tentative when he brushed an exploratory kiss across Yanagi's mouth – were warm and soft. Despite the urgency and drive with which he had touched him, even recently, there had been only a handful of kisses between them. Opportunity didn't arise often and the two of them had spent so much time feeling out the roles that they'd assigned themselves that just this – something so simple – seemed like a brand new negotiation.

"Senpai," he murmured, fingertips edging along the tips of Yanagi's hair. "I don't want to wait. Don't tell me we should."

Parting his lips, wrapping his arms tighter around Kirihara's waist, Yanagi watched his eyelashes flutter before he closed his eyes and this time, when they kissed, Yanagi felt as though they were truly coming together.

"I wasn't," he said, surprising himself to discover that it was true. He didn't want to stop, didn't want to be responsible, didn't want to set a good example. Kirihara seemed eager to follow his own path and as Yanagi had never really wanted to curtail his wilder side during his most impressionable years, he saw no reason to start doing so now. Besides, Kirihara's body was solid and warm and tempting against his own and when Kirihara's tongue slid over his own, calling a halt was the absolute last thing on his mind. As it turned out, morality was entirely superfluous when faced with something so honest and so overwhelming as Kirihara Akaya's sweet, uncertain love.

With the realization that Kirihara wanted to have sex, however, came an undeniable surge of anxiety and reluctance. Yanagi had never done anything like this before and despite the heat between them, there was fear, also.

Fingertips easing along Yanagi's neck and over his shoulders, Kirihara deepened their kiss, whimpering once when Yanagi met him halfway. He slid his hands lower on Kirihara's back, into his back pockets to squeeze his bottom.

Lips slack, Kirihara moaned and pressed his palms tight against Yanagi's back, holding him steady to grind hard against his hip. Kirihara was eager – he was ready – and Yanagi pulled back a little, nuzzling the corner of his mouth and rubbing his cheek against Kirihara's to bring him out of the moment.

"But…" Kirihara protested, licking his lips and leaning in again, and Yanagi smiled. He ducked his head, pulled Kirihara close to hug him and, against his temple, he murmured, "Shh, Akaya. Let's go over there."

Eyes unfocused, lips shiny and slack, Kirihara glanced toward the bed and nodded. "Okay."

He sat down on the bed, pulling Kirihara down beside him, and stopped him with one hand at his shoulder when he would have leaned in again.

"Wait," Yanagi told him, touching his face, his mouth, the line of his jaw. "Slow down, Akaya. I'm not going anywhere."

Dropping his gaze, Kirihara laughed once and sought out Yanagi's fingers on the bedspread. "This is embarrassing," he said. "I wasn't embarrassed before."

Before Yanagi could respond – put immediately in mind of that frenetic, desperate encounter in a deserted school bathroom – Kirihara spoke up quickly.

"Who was it? The one before me."

Touching Kirihara's hand briefly, only in passing, Yanagi lifted his t-shirt – inching it up along his chest until Kirihara raised his arms to assist him. He tossed the shirt aside to trace Kirihara's collarbone with his fingertips. He didn't ask why Kirihara needed to know and he didn't tell him that it didn't matter.

"Sanada."

Kirihara's eyes widened, though there was no hint of censure there.

"He said Yukimura's name when he came."

At Kirihara's disgruntled expression, Yanagi tugged off his own shirt and dropped it at his feet. "I didn't take offense. I knew it wasn't personal."

"But…you and Sanada…" Kirihara began, clearly confused, and Yanagi took his hand, twined their fingers.

"Are close, yes. Always have been. That's never changed."

Lifting Kirihara's hand to his lips, Yanagi kissed his knuckles, recalling a time when Kirihara's gaze burned hot and unflinching – the way it did now. He remembered these same knuckles, white from the deathgrip he'd had on his racket. He remembered how unstoppable Kirihara had been and how proud of him he and Seiichi had been. He recalled those words – gruff in his boy's voice and given like an oath.

_'I'm gonna be number one, Senpai. Watch me. You'll watch me, won't you?'_

Yanagi had promised, and here he was – still watching. Never stopping.

"I'll only say your name, Senpai," Kirihara said, voice low.

Leaning forward, Yanagi kissed his mouth, touched his belly, smiled against Kirihara's hot lips when the boy shivered under his too-light touch.

"Say it, then," he whispered, tasting his tongue, the corner of his mouth, that spot just under his jaw. "You've never said it before."

Breath hitching, belly concave when Yanagi thumbed open the button of his pants, Kirihara stilled. "I…"

"Say it," Yanagi whispered. " _Akaya_."

Chilled despite the heat, Kirihara bowed his head when Yanagi eased his zipper down. He cupped the back of Yanagi's neck to draw him closer still and whimpered again – louder this time – when Yanagi bent to kiss his chest, his ribs, his belly.

His voice shook when he said it; his hand unsteady against Yanagi's arm. "Renji," he whispered, blushing and hot and so hard that he hurt.

It sounded odd – foreign on Kirihara's lips – but Yanagi wanted to hear it again. And again and again until it made sense and didn't feel new anymore.

"Again," he said, peeling Kirihara's pants away from him to reveal his snug, baby-blue briefs.

"R-Renji," Kirihara whispered, voice breaking when Yanagi passed his thumb over the damp spot just under the elastic. "Ahhh… _Senpai_ …"

Glancing up once, Yanagi met Kirihara's eyes when he slipped his hand into Kirihara's underwear. The sun vanished into the horizon and Kirihara squeezed his eyes shut tight when his cock jerked to pulse quick and hot against the palm of Yanagi's hand.

He cried out, shocked and overwhelmed and too far gone in the moment to remember where they were.

Everything was different, now.

\+ + +

 

Niou turned away from the wall, nauseous with guilt and arousal, to look at Yagyuu again. He was hot and restless and feeling as though he could crawl out of his own skin as he approached the bed and, still, Yagyuu didn't move.

It wasn't fair. Wasn't fair that Kirihara hit a homerun the very first time he got up to bat when Niou felt as though he'd been swinging at air forever.

It was dark outside and far too early for Yagyuu to be asleep. Niou wouldn't have put it past him to get plastered quick so as to avoid any close encounters of the Niou kind. It was all bullshit, anyway – Niou knew he wasn't imagining the way the air got thick and charged between them when their façade of intimacy felt a little too real for comfort. If Yagyuu was willing to ignore it just because he didn't know what to do about it, then he was a punk. And Niou didn't want to get naked with some _punk_. Well, except for those times when he _did_ want to. Like now.

He yanked his shirt over his head and threw it Yagyuu. It landed on the back of one thigh – obscuring Niou's view of his fine, round ass. Even unconscious, Yagyuu sought to thwart him.

Kneeling on the bed, Niou straddled Yagyuu's ankles and stared hard at him. His hair feathered against his forehead and hung over the frames of his glasses. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were pink and parted slightly – Niou was beginning to tent the front of his worn, baggy pants. Couldn't the frigid bastard drool or something? Anything to make him less desirable than he was. Or perhaps he could just keep on being completely irresistible and just fucking _want Niou back_.

"I hate you," he said aloud. Yagyuu didn't budge.

"I hate you, Yagyuu Hiroshi. And if you were awake, you'd know. But you're not. So fuck you."

It felt good to say it and he moved forward – on all fours and straddling Yagyuu's legs – to get a better look at him.

"You're missing out, you know," he told him conspiratorially. "I got 'em lined up four deep, wanting a piece of me. And what have you got?" Niou snorted derisively. "You got nothin', pal. Just me and that ugly bitch in the physics club who'll never suck your dick but will keep you up all night talking about quantum theory or some boring shit like that."

As he'd expected, Yagyuu remained silent. And very, very asleep. Bravado dissipating with no audience to goad him on, Niou collapsed beside Yagyuu on the bed, pressing close against his back and silently daring him to open his eyes.

He was warm and broad-shouldered and Niou curled his fingers in the fabric of his shirt when he pressed as close as he could manage. "Hey, Yagyuu," he whispered. "Wake up and tell me yes. Or wake up and tell me no. Just…tell me _something_."

After a moment, just as he was about to allow Yagyuu's breathing to lull him into a warm, comforting sort of void, he propped himself up on his elbow to lean over Yagyuu, to see his face.

"Guess it'd help if I asked the question, first, huh?"

Leaning on Yagyuu's shoulder, it was nothing to ease him onto his back and, when he did, he noticed the red mark on his face from where he'd been laying on his glasses.

 _Dork_.

Careful – so very careful – he eased Yagyuu's glasses away from his face and lay them on the pillow next to him. Yagyuu had beautiful eyes – Niou only wished that he'd _open_ them.

He leaned in further, still – just looking – to touch the tip of his nose to Yagyuu's. His breath was warm and smelled like peanuts or alcohol or noodles; Niou couldn't tell.

"Yagyuu," he said, voice low. "Congratulations. The kid's getting lucky."

Humming in his sleep, Yagyuu shifted in Niou's direction and exhaled slowly. He murmured something unintelligible against Niou's lips and Niou rose to ease one leg over Yagyuu's hips. He was careful not to press against him – his dick was hard as glass – but he got as close as he dared.

"It's not supposed to be about Akaya," he told Yagyuu in that same low, urgent voice. "Yagyuu."

And – just like that – he couldn't hold it back any longer. Couldn't keep his hands off of Yagyuu's skin and couldn't pretend that he could stand even one more minute of the waiting. The unbearable, unending _waiting_.

He kissed him. Quick, light – with his blood thrumming almost audibly in his veins – he kissed Yagyuu's mouth for the first time and when no reaction was forthcoming, he did it again.

"Yagyuu," he urged, licking Yagyuu's lower lip and daring to suck it between his teeth. "Wake up."

When Yagyuu began to open his eyes, slow and unfocused, parting his lips to speak – to protest, perhaps – Niou was already one step ahead. He kissed him again – deep and sloppy and more forceful than he intended. He didn't close his eyes.

 

\+ + +

 

Kirihara was heavier than Yangi thought he would be. Stretched out over him with one knee pressed almost unbearably snug against Yanagi's balls, Kirihara had both hands in Yanagi's hair and was kissing him like he'd never been kissed before in his life and might not ever again. He was voracious, he was thorough, he was _good_.

Spreading his legs, Yanagi arched a bit, making room for Kirihara and hoping that he'd get the hint.

"Senpai," he breathed, breath hot at Yanagi's ear when he sucked hard at the soft skin of his neck.

Yanagi hooked one leg behind Kirihara's and grunted when he rubbed his dick against the front of Yanagi's briefs. "Renji," he said again.

Touching his nipples and tonguing the hollow of his throat now, Kirihara moaned and ground against him again. "Oh, god, _Renji_ …"

Smiling, Yanagi tipped his head obligingly when Kirihara shifted to lick and bite the other side of his neck. His own underwear was soaked through in one spot and his balls were so tight that he didn't think he could spread his legs wide enough in order to get just a little relief.

"I'm gonna come again," Kirihara whined, biting down at that tender juncture where neck met shoulder, restless between Yanagi's legs. "I can't stop it."

Yanagi bit his lip. He needed to get out of his underwear; Kirihara had practically ripped his own in his haste to get them off. "It's all right," he reassured him, unable to ascertain if it was Kirihara who was trembling or _himself_. "Come if you need to, Akaya. We've got all night."

He winced, thinking that if this kept up, it would be all night before _he_ finally got to come.

"No," Kirihara groaned, sucking in a breath when Yanagi lifted his legs to allow Kirihara's dick to slide into the crease of his thigh. "I don't want to come, yet. Not until I'm in you."

Yanagi froze, listening carefully for a repeat of what Kirihara had just said. _He_ wanted to be on top? Yanagi had not considered the possibility and while some part of him was relieved that he would not have to be the one to do it, he was afraid of what might await him. Kirihara was even more inexperienced than he was, himself. How could he possibly know what sex with another man entailed?

"A-akaya," he began, hissing when Kirihara hooked his fingers into the elastic of his underwear and began to tug them over his hips. The fabric caught on the head of his dick and he gasped when Kirihara pulled too hard. His cock slapped against his lower belly and he winced.

Kirihara was over him again in an instant, kissing his mouth, sucking his tongue, rubbing his dick against Yanagi's balls.

"Sorry, senpai. Sorry," he panted, hot and eager and insistent and _thick_ against Yanagi's groin. "Please," he whispered, reaching between them to touch the backs of Yanagi's thighs – hinting, wanting, seeking. " _Let me_. I want it so bad."

Nodding quickly, Yanagi pressed his palms to Kirihara's shoulders, unsure of what to say. Now, like before, words were simply unnecessary. "Alright."

One more hard, deep kiss saw Kirihara retreating – sitting back on his heels to give Yanagi space to turn over – and when Yanagi leaned up on his elbows, legs draped over Kirihara's thighs, his cock jerked when he took in the picture that Kirihara made, there in the moonlight.

"You know what to do?" he asked, hesitant still and nearly unable to tear his gaze away from his Kirihara's erection. "Did you bring anything?"

The line of Kirihara's slumped shoulders – his silence – was all the answer Yanagi required. He scooted up, glancing around and feeling ridiculous with his dick hard and wet at the tip; he was sensitive and over-stimulated.

He didn't pretend to care about condoms or the lack thereof. He was technically a virgin and Kirihara had never touched anyone other than himself, so – to his mind – they were safe. But there was no way Kirihara was getting his dick inside Yanagi without benefit of something slippery and very, very plentiful.

"How about that?" Kirihara asked, pointing to the clear, pump-bottle on the dainty little dresser. The bottle was decorated with pink ballet shoes and musical notes and was filled with plain, white lotion. Yanagi would count himself lucky that it wasn't pink and bubblegum-scented.

He nodded. "That'll do."

There was the possibility that it might sting a bit, but given the size of Kirihara's dick, a little discomfort was going to be entirely unavoidable.

Kirihara was off the bed and back before Yanagi had managed to settle himself on all fours and when the bed dipped under Kirihara's weight gain, Yanagi edged further up the mattress.

His hands were hot and eager at Yanagi's hips and when he slipped his knees between Yanagi's, he bent to press a kiss between Yanagi's shoulder blades. "I'll be careful," he promised, touching Yanagi's sides, his ribs, the dip at his lower back. "Just trust me, Senpai," he said, covering Yanagi's back to nudge between his legs. He moaned, pressed his face to Yanagi's shoulder. "I'll be good. It's gonna be really good."

\+ + +

Niou wasn't sure if the moaning and whispering he heard was coming from the other side of the wall or if it were just himself – projecting wishful thought.

He decided that it didn't really matter; his tongue was in Yagyuu's mouth and those sleepy murmurs were driving him insane. With one hand under Yagyuu's head and the other beneath his shirt, Niou reasoned that now was not the best time for drawn-out, convoluted thinking.

"Are you awake?" he asked, feet restless as he did his best to insinuate one leg between Yagyuu's.

Mumbling against Niou's mouth, Yagyuu lay his hand against Niou's back and shifted beneath him. Niou closed his eyes, slowed his pace. If he was going to get the crap beat out of him for sinking so low as to molest his best friend while he was unconscious, Niou intended to make this last kiss count for _something_.

"What're you doing?" Yagyuu finally managed, pushing at Niou's shoulder and gazing up at him blankly. Niou stared back, watched him try to focus, sure that he hadn't yet realized that Niou had stolen his glasses.

"Don't ask me that," Niou said, pressing his face to the curve of Yagyuu's neck – he was so, incredibly warm and smelled so good.

Yagyuu scrubbed at his eyes, wincing when the light hit him. "Niou…" He was disoriented, muzzy. Niou pressed the palm of his hand just over Yagyuu's heart.

"Don't talk," Niou said, kissing his jaw, his neck. "Just kiss me."

"Where are Kirihara and Yanagi?"

Niou shifted, easing over Yagyuu to stretch out over him. Chest to chest – heartbeat to heartbeat – he spoke just against Yagyuu's mouth. "I don't want to talk about Akaya and Yanagi."

"Niou," Yagyuu began again, and Niou pressed his fingertips to Yagyuu's lips.

"Quiet. If you listen, you'll hear them."

Yagyuu shook his head, confused and uncertain and Niou held his gaze, daring him look away, when he slid his hand down Yagyuu's belly to cup him through his pants.

"You don't hate this," Niou told him, squeezing gently and reveling in Yagyuu's swift intake of breath. He was half-hard and too out of sorts to offer the sort of rejection that Niou had felt certain he would receive. "Everybody thinks we're doing it, Yagyuu."

"So?" Yagyuu asked, sounding as though he were speaking through a mouthful of cobwebs.

"So? So, why aren't we?"

Glaring mutinously up at Niou, coming back to reality slowly, Yagyuu lay still beneath him. "It's the game, Niou. It's all about the game."

" _Fuck_ the game," Niou hissed. "This is about you. You and me."

The look in Yagyuu's eyes hinted that the idea was not new to him. That he hadn't tried to choke Niou or demand that he get off of him was all the encouragement that Niou needed.

"Why don't you follow some of that brilliant advice you were handing out earlier?"

When Yagyuu didn't answer, Niou pressed one of his hands back against his pillow – twining their fingers and pinning his wrist – and guided the other to the waistband of his own pants. Down on one elbow, his lips just at Yagyuu's ear, Niou murmured, "Isn't it just like touching yourself, Yagyuu? It's not so different."

Closing his eyes, Yagyuu's teeth creased his bottom lip and he couldn't keep from pressing his cock against the palm of Niou's hand. He turned his head away from Niou, stifling the sound he wanted to make when Niou kissed his neck again.

"I want this," he said, resolute and entreating. "Want me, too. It's easy – I'll show you."

Yagyuu didn't respond – _couldn't_ respond – but the sound that Niou made when he slipped his hands into Niou's pants to cup him over his underwear made the silence feel like surrender.

Yagyuu found that he didn't mind it, so much. Not when Niou could cling the way he did. Their balance – their even ground – remained uninterrupted. To Yagyuu, it was the most important thing.

\+ + +

 

The sweet pink bedspread had begun to slide away from the sheets. With his fists clenched tight around the bedcover and his knees bunching it beneath him, Yanagi wondered how Kirihara maintained his balance.

Rubbing the insides of his thighs, resting against Yanagi's back while his cock slid back and forth between Yanagi's buttocks – slick in a path of lotion and sweat – Kirihara seemed completely unperturbed by the state of the bed. All that he cared about – all that mattered to him in that moment – was Yanagi beneath him and the lure of that tight, slippery place his cock seemed determined to breach.

"Akaya," Yanagi panted, arching his back to keep from rubbing his dick on the bed. "Not yet. You have to…"

He paused, grunting when Kirihara nudged his balls again. His nipples were hard, his dick was harder, and he could feel his anus clench each time Kirihara pushed against him. He should have been embarrassed, he knew, but he wasn't. Nor, it seemed, was Kirihara.

"Oh, right. Yeah, I know about that. Sorry, senpai."

"Renji," Yanagi corrected him, breath hitching when Kirihara rubbed between his cheeks with the pads of two fingers.

"Renji," Kirihara repeated dutifully. And then, again, when one finger slid into him, " _Oh_. Renji. _Renji_."

He fingered Yanagi slowly, as though fascinated by what he was doing – by what Yanagi was allowing him to do. "It's really tight. God, and _hot_. Does this feel okay?"

Kirihara's voice was thick, low, quiet. Yanagi suspected that his control was stretched to the breaking point. To his credit, though, he never lost his concentration and remained almost entirely focused on Yanagi.

He kept going, pushing in, withdrawing, until he had two fingers inside Yanagi and could move easily, fluidly. Yanagi had, by this time, lowered his chest to the bed and arched his hips for Kirihara in such a way that he could barely imagine how they looked together – amidst all the pink and sweetness – writhing and grunting like dogs.

Kirihara's fingers were blunt and they incited him, filled him, made him squirm. "Go ahead, Akaya."

Gripping Yanagi's buttocks eagerly, he was breathless when he spoke. "Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you – did I give you enough? Are you wet enough?"

Groaning into the soft blankets, Yanagi arched his back again. "I'm as ready as I'm going to be. Go ahead."

Kirihara was quick, kneeling behind Yanagi and edging closer until the tip of his cock nudged between his cheeks again. This time, he pushed a little – testing his resistance – and as Yanagi closed his eyes, took a deep breath in an attempt to relax, Kirihara pressed his cheek to the middle of Yanagi's back.

They were quiet for a moment, breathing in tandem while Kirihara lay a path of clumsy kisses along Yanagi's spine before he straightened again. His fingers were too hard when he spread Yanagi open for him and his hands shook as he guided himself in.

"Sen- _pai_ ," he choked, unable to stop once he'd begun the slow, steady push inside.

Eyes wide now, Yanagi parted his lips to offer some measure of acknowledgment, of reassurance, but found that he could not make a sound. Kirihara held him immobile with just a few inches of his dick inside him and when he flexed his hips to fill him completely, Yanagi found his voice.

"Ahhh, _fuck_ , Akaya!"

Kirihara wrapped both arms tight around Yanagi's waist, clinging to him as he thrust once, twice – his mouth damp against Yanagi's back to muffle the sounds he made – to come hard, as deep inside him as he could get.

"Senpai!" he cried out, voice breaking in wonder, and Yanagi couldn't have said whether he actually heard Kirihara call out for him or if he'd merely felt him form the words against his skin. He bowed his head, panting for breath as though he'd played five full sets and he yelped in surprise when Kirihara pulled out – still hard – to roll him to his back.

His eyes were wild – bright and feverish even with the lack of decent light – and he spread Yanagi's thighs to lie between them. Yanagi reached for him, fingertips brushing damp curls before Kirihara clasped their hands once more.

Without a word, he bent his head to Yanagi, hot, pink tongue flat against the tip of his cock to lap at the clear fluid still gathering there and Yanagi bit his lip again to muffle the sound of surprise he might have made. He was stretched and open – burning and aching and feeling oddly bereft – when Kirihara wrapped the fingers of his other hand tight around the base of his dick.

Squeezing his hand, Yanagi arched, buttocks clenching when Kirihara sucked him.

"Akaya," he growled, trying not to thrust hard into Kirihara's mouth. "Don't stop."

Kirihara hummed his acquiescence, releasing Yanagi's dick to slide his lips further down and when he withdrew to suck hard at the tip, Kirihara slid two fingers inside him again.

Back bowed, Yanagi's eyes rolled back in his head and he gripped Kirihara's fingers in a punishing grip. And then he was gone, given over to Kirihara's soft, hot mouth and the weightlessness and oblivion of the most sublime sort of pleasure he'd ever thought to experience in his life. Nothing could have prepared him for this moment and part of him was glad that it hadn't. Discovery had never felt so fine.

\+ + +

Yagyuu was facing him now. Not just allowing his attentions, as Niou had assumed would be the best that he could hope for, but _facing_ him, touching him – eyes wide open.

Niou had one leg draped high over Yagyuu's hip and they moved together urgently. Completely without rhythm and desperate to get where they were going, gripping one another's cocks with both hands – Niou couldn't believe his _luck_.

"Unnh, Yagyuu," he murmured, mouth pressed to the hollow of his partner's throat. "I'm gonna come." He shuddered, wanting to spread his legs, wanting to shift, to move, to _mount_.

Yagyuu nodded once, the backs of his knuckles brushing the wiry curls of Niou's groin and he leaned his forehead against Niou's. Lips nearly touching, he gasped and moaned and tried to work his cock further into Niou's hands.

Niou licked his lips, shaking with the effort it took to restrain himself – to wait for Yagyuu. _Kiss me_ , he wanted to say. _Show me that you don't care about the game, either, Yagyuu_.

But Yagyuu's eyes were glassy and unfocused and he was breathing hard and Niou told himself that he was lucky to get _this_ much.

"Niou," Yagyuu managed, something in the tone of his voice hint enough that he understood. Tilting his head, burrowing further into the pillow, Yagyuu took his mouth in a hard, possessive sort of kiss and Niou's tenuous grip on his control snapped.

He moaned against Yagyuu's lips, completely without coherent thought when Yagyuu spilled sticky and warm in his hands. And he followed him over – finally.

 _Yes_.

 

\+ + +

 

Drowsy and sated, Kirihara hadn't moved far after he'd made Yanagi come. Sprawled on the bed with his head resting against Yanagi's belly, he made sleepy, contented noises and forgot to ask if Yanagi was comfortable. It was of little consequence to Yanagi, however, who was perfectly happy to lay just where he was with Kirihara's weight against him and his soft, tousled curls a riot beneath his fingers.

When he spoke, his voice was rough, and he didn't cough to clear it. "Akaya."

Kirihara smiled against his belly – Yanagi could feel it – and he hummed again. "Mm?"

"No more questions?"

"Eh? Questions?" he asked.

"About us."

"Oh. No, Senpai."

"Renji," Yanagi corrected.

Rubbing his cheek against Yanagi's hip, he laughed – faint and light. " _Renji_."

It was, he realized, the truth. What he felt for Yanagi was the best sort of security, like he'd been standing still all this time while the world turned around him. The inertia that he'd thought had been his, hadn't been inertia at all. Once he'd taken that initial step, Yanagi had followed. It was as Yagyuu had said: sometimes it was better to lead by example.

Kirihara yawned and pressed his lips to Yanagi's belly in an almost kiss. He'd thank his senpai tomorrow. If he was lucky, they wouldn't give him any shit about all the noise he probably made tonight.

But Kirihara didn't rely much on luck. Not _that_ often, anyway.


End file.
